And so another Pub Poets' meeting descended, and with it the theme 'plain brown wrapper'. And, as is becoming a habit, I'm writing the poem during the afternoon when the meeting is scheduled for the evening.
So what do I write? No idea. Just start writing then, and see what emerges. Part way through, I had an idea for the ending - which may need some explanation for those unfamiliar with the group (i.e. probably most of you). Ashley Lister teaches English and creative writing at the local college, hosts the Pub Poets' open mic sessions with much hilarity, and is a much published author of erotica. 'Nuff said.
Plain Brown Wrapper
I got a little package
in the post the other day.
It was wrapped in plain brown paper
and not marked in any way.
Okay, if you’re pedantic
you many point out my address;
That this should mark the package
- or did the postman guess?
But I’ll ignore such picky words;
the snides won’t get me down.
Ignore the printed label there;
the rest was plain and brown.
The bloke who brought the package,
he was plain and wrapped-up too.
He didn’t come from Royal Mail –
instead, some other crew.
He got into an unmarked van
and drove off down the street.
An independent courier
or maybe just discreet.
I closed the door and went inside,
the package in my hand,
and that is when I noticed
that the wrapping was so bland.
Perhaps it was just marketing;
another new campaign
from Virgin mobile or such firms –
they really are a pain.
I looked at it and shook it
and I pondered, “Where’s it from?”
I wondered, “What could be inside?”
Perhaps a letter bomb!
I laughed at my stupidity
“Who’d want to blow up me?
I’m not like Katie Hopkins
Or a government MP.”
It could not be from Amazon –
they’re never in disguise.
Their name emblazoned on the side;
their parcels advertise.
Besides, I’d made no orders
when I tried to wrack my brain,
so who would send me something
wrapped in paper – brown and plain?
I know what you are saying:
Why not simply have a look?
I did, and then it all came clear:
I’d sent for Ashley’s book.